AXELLE
Every breath I take is for my parents, and every moment I live is dedicated to my siblings.
It was twenty-five years ago when Mr. and Mrs. Brandwith took me in, making me a part of their family. But it wasn't out of love or kindness. They needed to paint themselves as good, decent people, and I was the brush they used to create that illusion.
As I sat there, my phone chimed, pulling me from my thoughts. The moment I saw Adan's name on the screen, my spirits lifted.
My marriage to him wasn't about love or passion; it was a convenient arrangement, orchestrated by our parents to suit their plans. But, to my surprise, I've never been more grateful for something they forced upon me. He loves me in a way I never thought possible, showing me what love truly is and giving me every reason to smile.
"Why are you looking at your phone during lunch?" Dad snapped, his tone sharp. I glanced up, startled by his sudden irritation. "What level of disrespect is that?"
Quickly, I put the phone down and cleared my throat. "It's Adan," I explained.
He fixed me with a cold glare. "And?"
And? What does he mean, *and*? "He's my husband," I replied, feeling a bit irritated. Here I am, on my birthday, forced to spend it miles away from him, sitting through a lunch focused on business matters I neither understand nor care to understand.
They handed me a failing charity organization, a side project to keep me busy, I suppose. But I turned it around, built it into something successful, something that actually means something. I've distanced myself from the family business ever since, so why am I stuck in this meeting today? Why can't they just let me live the life I've created for myself?
"I don't care who you're chatting with. Whenever you are in my presence, you are to give me your complete and undivided attention!"
His sharp and commanding voice caused me to jerk in surprise, and I felt my eyebrows furrow deeply into a frown. Out of habit and years of experience, I instinctively avoided meeting his gaze, a practice I've developed over time to shield myself from his disapproval.
"Stop frowning," he hissed with irritation. "There are people watching us."
"I'm sorry," I stammered, clearing my throat nervously. "I didn't mean to show any disrespect."
He waved my apology away dismissively. "I have a new business venture coming to New York, and we need a secure location to hold the funds until we are ready to begin operations."
I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his, confusion evident in my expression. "You could always use a bank for that. Isn't that the purpose of banks?"
"And do you honestly believe that I am unaware of how banks operate?" he retorted. "We need to use the SAS for this business."
Something doesn't feel right. "What is this business about?"
He shook his head dismissively and signaled for the waitress to come over. "You don't need to know."
I blinked twice, taken aback. "Excuse me?"
"I said, you don't have to know. And also, the reason we came to Mexico is no longer relevant. Mr. Orlando isn't showing up."
I pushed my chair back and stood up. "I don't mean any disrespect, Dad, but SAS isn't handling any funds until we have a complete understanding of the business and the reason you want to hide the funds under my company."
He scoffed, a hint of irritation in his voice. "You mean my company?"
Dumbfounded, I blinked rapidly, trying to process his words. "Bon appétit, Dad," I said, my voice strained.
Grabbing my purse, I walked out of the restaurant. I immediately checked for the next available flight, heading straight to the airport so I could spend the remaining hours of my birthday with my husband.
************
As I pulled into the garage, I decided to enter the house through the back door—it's simply the closest route from the garage.
I walked into the living room where soft music was playing, but Adan was nowhere in sight. I had hoped to surprise him by not mentioning that my meeting was canceled.
Slipping off my shoes, I headed to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before starting my search for Adan. But as I entered the kitchen, something unusual caught my eye.
On the kitchen counter, there were two wine glasses and a woman's purse. My brow furrowed in confusion as I approached the purse. I lifted it, and my frown deepened at the sight of the bag—it was a limited edition Birkin.
What on earth was a Birkin bag, which clearly didn't belong to me, doing on my kitchen island? I knew someone who owned the same bag, but that person had no reason to be in my house.
I unzipped the purse and began rummaging through its contents, my hand probing inside until I came across a wallet. With trembling fingers, I opened the wallet and searched for an ID. When I finally found it, my heart froze.
The name on the ID read "Ines Brandwith."
There was no mistaking it. The Birkin bag belonged to Ines.
I blinked rapidly, trying to process what I had just discovered. I quickly shoved the ID back into the purse, desperately trying to avoid overthinking the situation. The bottle of water I had initially planned to fetch became an afterthought as I hastened up the stairs, my mind racing as I searched for her.
I checked the guestrooms first, but Ines was nowhere to be found. My anxiety mounting, I dragged my feet toward our bedroom, pausing outside the door to take a deep breath. Adan had insisted on soundproofing the walls, so it was nearly impossible to hear anything from outside.
Despite my efforts to calm my nerves with deep breaths, I felt nothing but dread as I pushed the door open.
What I saw inside was a sight that shattered my heart: My husband was naked and deeply buried in my sister, Ines.
I was paralyzed with shock, unable to scream, move, or even blink. My hands shook uncontrollably, and tears began to blur my vision. I silently urged myself to breathe, but my throat felt constricted, making it nearly impossible to take in air.
Ines was the first to notice my presence. Her eyes rolled in irritation, and she stiffened, clearly startled by the interruption. She shoved Adan away from her with a scowl. "What the hell is she doing here?" she spat, clearly angered by my unexpected arrival.
Adan, caught off guard, scrambled off the bed to retrieve his scattered clothes. "She should be in Mexico," he mumbled, his brows furrowing. "What are you doing here, Axelle?"
I blinked slowly, my mouth opening and closing as I struggled to find words. "What…" I managed to stammer, my gaze shifting to the indifferent Ines. "Are you seriously asking me what I'm doing in my own home?"
"You should be in Mexico," Adan emphasized, taking a step toward me.
My anger flared, and before I could control myself, I grabbed a small picture frame from a nearby table and hurled it at him. It struck him on the face, leaving a small cut. "I find you in bed with my sister, and this is all you have to say to me?!" I shouted, my voice trembling with rage.
Ines, unfazed by the commotion, got out of bed and dressed herself. With a smirk, she walked up to Adan and planted a kiss on him right in front of me. To my shock, Adan didn't push her away. Ines's smirk widened. "I guess we don't have to hide anymore."
"What?" I whispered, my mind reeling from her audacity. I knew she had always harbored resentment towards me, but this was a new level of betrayal.
"You heard me, my love," she said, her tone dripping with false sweetness as she sauntered toward me. "I'm quite taken with Adan, and I'm not about to end what we have just because you happened to walk in on us."
Disgusted, I raised my hand to slap Ines across the face. But before I could make contact, my hand was caught mid-air—not by Ines, but by my husband.
My eyes widened in shock as tears streamed down my cheeks. "Did you just stop me from hitting her?" I asked, my voice breaking.
He licked his lips, his expression irritatingly calm. "Stop being dramatic so we can talk about this."
Fueled by my anger, I lifted my other hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. His head snapped to the side, and his jaw clenched as he absorbed the sting of my slap.
"I don't know what hurts more," I said through gritted teeth, "the fact that you cheated on me or the fact that you're so nonchalant about it."
He rubbed his cheek where I had struck him, his expression hard and cold. "I'll overlook this because I know you're upset."
"Fuck you." I wiped my tears away roughly and yanked my hand from his grip. "You disgust me," I spat. "And you'll be hearing from my lawyer."
"What for?" Ines asked with a mocking chuckle. "Don't tell me you're actually considering divorcing him."
"Considering?" I retorted. "It's not just a thought, you bitch."
Ines threw her head back and laughed loudly, her laughter echoing in the room. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, darling, but once you divorce Adan, you'll end up in jail."
Confused, I turned to Adan. "What is she talking about?"
Adan's gaze was cold as he replied, "Those investments I advised you to make—do you really think they're legitimate investments?"
I forced myself to stay composed, despite the rising panic within me. I licked my lips, trying to steady my voice. "If they aren't investment documents, then what are they?"
Ines rolled her eyes. "How stupid can you really be?"
"They're documents with your signature," Ines explained, her tone flat. "They allow his father's company and our family company to funnel illegal funds under your name and through SAS. If you divorce him, you'll not only lose SAS, but you'll also lose your freedom."